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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27438457">Not just another (blow)job</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloSanGi/pseuds/FloSanGi'>FloSanGi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kinkwinter [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blow Jobs, Illya is cute, Little bit of angst, M/M, Mention of sex for completing jobs, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Secret agencies are the worst, Solo is whipped, just for context</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:53:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,639</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27438457</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloSanGi/pseuds/FloSanGi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Solo discovered things about KGB training he hadn't imagined.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kinkwinter [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2004580</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>101</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Not just another (blow)job</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So I kinda wanna do kinktober but I miserably failed. But the prompts I got are cool and I decided to follow them for a while.</p><p>First one is "Blowjobs" and Solo and Illya popped in my mind, so here it is!</p><p>This is my first fic about this fandom. I hope they're not too OOC.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You're trying to tell me that you, Red Peril, know how to give a blowjob?</p><p>- Yes.</p><p>- Like in 'taking another man length in you're - as a matter of fact very large - mouth and pleasure him this way' know how?</p><p>- I am aware of what the term blowjob means, Cowboy. And yes, I learned how to do it during my training.</p><p>- ... You learned the art of blowjobs at the KGB? Like... Mother Russia educated you on how to pleasure men?</p><p>- I wouldn't call it an art but as spies we are supposed to get our way by any means possible. Including the most deprived forms of sexual encounters. In fact it's one of the first training we get.</p><p>- That's... kinda sad."</p><p>And, for a change, Solo really meant it. It was sad. More than sad it was disturbing. Not that the CIA was any better but he'd fortunately never been a real part of it. Especially not as young as the secret agencies take their recruits.</p><p>His Russian counterpart didn't react beside a minute shrugging who spoke million for a laconic guy like him.</p><p>"No offense meant but let me handle this one, Peril."</p><p>A raised eyebrow above an eye that shouldn't be this shade of blue without cheating.</p><p>"Why? Per the files I'm clearly more his type.</p><p>- Because I am, in fact, a deprived person who likes to partake in intercourses with women and men alike. That beats any kind of KGB training by a long shot. If you pardon the expression."</p><p>The Russian frowned, something like guilt overtaking his too open expression.</p><p>"I. I didn't know. I didn't mean to insult you." His own face must speak for his amused surprise because Ilya backpedaled immediately. "Not in this aspect anyway. I will always insult you over your entire wretched personality. But that was uncalled for."</p><p>Something softened in Solo’s ironclad chest. </p><p>"Don't worry about it Peril, depraved was by far the more moderate people had ever called me.</p><p>- Still doesn't make it right.</p><p>- Thanks."</p><p>He looked at the brows knitted together again.</p><p>"For what?</p><p>- Being decent." His tone was much softer than he anticipated. Damn Russian and his too blue eyes and too innocent heart. "So. We agree that I take the head - not so metaphorically speaking - on this mission?</p><p>- No.”</p><p>Solo sighted. He knew by now that this particular brand of constipated expression meant that Illya had made up his mind. His very stubborn mind.</p><p>“The target likes tall, blond and athletic. You’re zero out of three.</p><p>- Hey! The fact that you’re the Russian equivalent of Big Foot doesn’t mean I’m not tall! And I’m athletic, thank you very much, I’m just bound by the limit of the human body, unless some killing machine I’m currently looking at...</p><p>- All my points still stand.”</p><p>Solo huffed in annoyance but, really, he had nothing constructive to say. They were spies, albeit a little rogue ones. Things like ‘I’d prefer you not to get emotionally hurt’ had no place between them. Himself didn’t know why he was entertaining this kind of thought. Not more than he knew where exactly along the road the Russian had become Illya in his mind, even if he remained Peril in his words.</p><p>“All right, we stick to the plan. You know what to wear? Or you want some advice?</p><p>- Do not insult me.”</p><p>***</p><p>As much as it pained him to admit it, Illya really knew how to dress himself perfectly to every occasion. Maybe even better than himself. He had a finesse that Solo chased all his life without being able to really grab it. It was very annoying. </p><p>And he had outdone himself tonight.</p><p>A pair of dark gray pants hugged his muscular thighs like a - very expensive - second skin. His shirt was a very light, very delicate nuance of the same color, just the right amount of open to be fashionably scandalous, revealing part of his toned chest. A golden pendant nested itself in the V end of the opening. Glinting invitingly. He styled his hair so they seemed at the same time perfectly brushed and mussed up like a hand just run through them - which could very well have happened pertaining the brand of the evening. He even indulged in a bit of make up, the almost indiscernible shadow bringing out his blue eyes with a supernatural intensity and his sharp features softened by carefully applied powder. His usually pale cheeks colored the slightest amount.</p><p>Thought that could be the alcohol.</p><p>Solo took the bottle of whisky in front of him, admiring the view with the honesty he was always proud of harboring toward himself and his own desires.</p><p>He wondered briefly if all of this was KGB training or more rooted in Illya's previous life. Maybe he learned make up from his mother? Though that opened another can of worms knowing what she had to resort to in order to raised her son.</p><p>He tilted the bottle toward his counterpart, smile carefully in place and hiding his thoughts.</p><p>“Another one? I’ll say we deserve the best after a mission completed in less than a night!”</p><p>Illya nodded curtly, a stray hair brushing his forehead at the movement. He was usually not a heavy drinker. Nor a drinker, period. Solo often thought he indulged him with the little glass that became more or less of a tradition every time they had a free evening of their own.</p><p>Tonight though. Tonight was different.</p><p>“You okay there Peril?”</p><p>The Russian didn’t look at him, seemingly fascinated by the amber swirls of the whisky slowly filling his glass. He was sitting with his back painfully straight on the sofa facing the one Solo was using with much more comfort. </p><p>“Why wouldn’t I be?</p><p>- Dunno.” Solo put the bottle down, bringing his glass to his lips with practiced disinterest. “Maybe because you’ve been forced to do something very uncomfortable for you?”</p><p>For the longest time, Illya stayed silence, sipping at his drink, his expression pinched and faraway.</p><p>“It is not.</p><p>- Hum?” Solo raised from his own contemplation, filled with blue shadowed eyes and plush lips stretching around a flesh length. “What is not?”</p><p>Illya’s eyes were still fixed somewhere between them. His voice was quiet, with this edge of roughness that slowly drove Solo crazy tonight.</p><p>“Uncomfortable. Not as much as it should be.”</p><p>Solo blinked.</p><p>"Care to develop on that?"</p><p>Illya frowned, putting his glass back on the table with a bit too much weight behind it.</p><p>"Do not make me say it.</p><p>- You know I will." Solo smiled around the rim of his glass, almost purring like a cat knowing his gigantic pray couldn't escape his claws.</p><p>Illya racked a hand through his hair, definitively ruining his careful styling. That shouldn't be that alluring.</p><p>"It is disgusting. But at the same time I..." His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "I almost found it pleasurable." </p><p>Solo tilted his head to the side, smile still playing on his lips.</p><p>"Was it that hard to admit?"</p><p>He bite down a laugh at the very decisive nod he get as an answer. He bent forward, reducing the distance between them. His glass came to rest on the table near Illya's.</p><p>"I'm curious, Peril. Have you ever blown someone other than a training partner or a target?"</p><p>The Russian shook his head, the tip of his ears a very interesting shade of red.</p><p>"And have another man ever done the same to you?"</p><p>Another shake, blond hair dancing in the dim light.</p><p>"Care to try?"</p><p>The words hovered between them a long time before Illya finally raised his head, looking him close to the eyes for the first time this night. He wet his lips, and Solo mentally prepared himself for a long session of solitary pleasure because this move should be illegal. The husky voice following it too. Speaking words he wasn't hoping to hear.</p><p>"Which one?"</p><p>A Cheshire cat smile bloomed on Solo face. </p><p>"Both?"</p><p>***</p><p>Illya's cock was at the image of his body. Long and fit and beautiful in its lanky way. Solo tried and failed spectacularly to not imagine it pushing inside him.</p><p>
  <i>Another time, Solo, don't be greedy.</i>
</p><p>As the situation stood he already had a very naked Russian hanging over himself, legs parted just above his head and his cock partway in his mouth, heavy and hot on his tongue.</p><p>He hummed around it, advancing his head to take more. Illya's thighs trembled but he visibly restrained himself to push forward. At Solo's utter amusement and dismay.</p><p>
  <i>You're way to cute for this life, Illya... </i>
</p><p>He hooked his hands on the curve of Illya's lower back, pulling on his arms, his lips working their way up, his tongue flat and his mouth deliciously full.</p><p>A low moan get right to his already painful erection. He frowned and wiggled his hips, reluctant to let go but clearly not getting his part of the bargain.</p><p>Well, he got at least half of it because he was really enjoying taking the proud Russian apart, but...</p><p>Another broken moan prompted him to act.</p><p>He slowly lowered his head, cheeks hollowing and tongue twirling all the way, until his lips teased just the tip of Illya's length. The moans were getting a little high pitch and it was part entertaining and part - very - arousing. He spoke against the tender flesh, wet from saliva and precum already, poor innocent KGB boy.</p><p>"Peril? May I remind you this is a two way street?"</p><p>He braced his feet on the bed and arched his back, his own cock hitting his bare stomach, begging to be touch.</p><p>He heard Illya take a trembling breath, felt his body shifting under his palms, tentative fingers grazing his pubic hair and folding themselves at the base of his length, angling it to face up. And finally - finally! - a hot breath ghosted over his head before chapped lips closed around it.</p><p>He let out a satisfied sigh, patting one of Illya's ass cheeks to convey his appreciation.</p><p>The body tensed slightly above him before the mouth let go.</p><p>"Don't get cocky, Cowboy."</p><p>His voice was even more rough than usual and Solo would lie if he said that didn't get another wave of arousal to wash over him.</p><p>"Then do your job properly, Peril." He pinched the muscles beneath his fingers before teasing the hard cock with his lips. "And don't restrain your monster self: I won't break..."</p><p>He didn't let him any chance to reply, engulfing him in his mouth at least halfway with one single hard sucking.</p><p>A strangled moan echoed before a very warm, very angry mouth closed itself around his throbbing erection.</p><p>He buckled his hips, moaning loudly, the sound reverberating in his skull with his lips stretched as they were.</p><p>It became a competition after that.</p><p>A very heady and hot one.</p><p>Solo was mercilessly grabbing Illya’s ass, and secretly hoping to leave marks on the firm skin. His nose was brushing the curly hair, filled with the scent of sweat and musk. The Russian had taken his advise and was on the verge of pining him to the mattress with the weight of his body, his cock lodged deep in his throat.</p><p>Solo was loving every second of it, working the small amount of space and alternating between sucking and moving his tongue as much as he can. A steady amount of precum was leaking, filing his throat and invading his senses with its strong taste.</p><p>Ilya was himself totally up to the part. He was bobbing his head enthusiastically, making good use of the fact that he was on top, traveling back and force, his tongue swirling with practiced moves - maybe too practiced, too clean, but he was nonetheless very good at what he was doing. His own nose was regularly brushing Solo’s lower abdomen and the sensation of his cock bumping the back of this particular throat was almost enough to make him come each time.</p><p>But he had his pride.</p><p>He wouldn’t lose to an enemy who barely took a baby step off of a deep red closet.</p><p>He trailed his hand along a round buttock, the muscles taunt beneath it. He part scratched part caressed until he reached the base of a sweaty thigh. His fingers sneaked under it, tracing the very sensitive spot until they come in contact with two heavy testicles.</p><p>Illya jerked, bucking his hips and burying his cock even further down Solo’s eager throat.</p><p>He moaned around it, suppressing his gag reflex with lot of experience behind him.</p><p>His eyes closed as he continued to play, massaging and applying just the right amount of pressure.</p><p>The mouth around his own cock gone slack, pants and moans brushing his flesh.</p><p>And suddenly it was gone.</p><p>“Cow... Cowboy... I... I... gonna...”</p><p>He would have smiled, drool pooling at the corner of his too stretched mouth. As it was he just pushed a little on Illya’s hips, making so that he was not crushed under them anymore. Just that.</p><p>Then he twirled his tongue again, curling his fingers, feeling the balls tightening under them, the climax building in the trembling abs just above his nose.</p><p>
  <i>Go ahead Illya. I’ve got you. </i>
</p><p>Illya cried out, a loud and broken sound, as his body tensed all over.</p><p>Spurts of hot and thick come hit the back of his throat and he swallowed them eagerly.</p><p>Again and again and again.</p><p>Until Illya remained a panting mess, his quivering thighs still maintaining him a short distance to the mattress.</p><p>
  <i>Very very cute. </i>
</p><p>Solo extracted his head from under him, letting go of his soft cock with a very obscene and very deliberate sound.</p><p>His lips were dripping drool and sperm. He must look as much spent and content as he felt.</p><p>His cock was still hard between his spread legs and he scooted one hand this way. Only to be batted away by trembling fingers.</p><p>“M’not done Cowboy.”</p><p>Before he could really comprehend the situation, Illya’s mouth was on him again. It was messy and sloppy, his movements slowed by the aftermath of his orgasm.</p><p>It was perfect.</p><p>It was too much.</p><p>Heat curled and roared in Solo’s gut and before he knew it he was curving on himself, coming hard with a name on his filthy lips.</p><p>***</p><p>“You called me Illya.</p><p>- That’s your name isn’t it?</p><p>- You never called me that before.</p><p>- Well, I never climaxed with your lips on my cock before."</p><p>Illya fell silent, no doubt pondering the truth behind the bold statement. His gaze was directing at the ceiling, a little out of focus. Maybe he was just falling asleep. They were lying side by side on one of the suite's kings beds, because why not after all?</p><p>"Should I get used to it?"</p><p>Solo arched a brow.</p><p>"I don't know, should I get used to your mouth on my cock?"</p><p>A minuscule shrugging brushed against his shoulder.</p><p>"I don't know. Maybe."</p><p>Solo didn't say anything and they lapsed into a comfortable silence once again.</p><p>"What do you think Gaby would say?"</p><p>He shook his head, a little smile on his lips.</p><p>"'Why didn't I get invited?' Probably...</p><p>- True."</p><p>This time Illya closed his eyes. Solo turned to his side to get a better view of his partner. His shower wet hair and shower flushed face. The way his features were relaxed and gentle in the near darkness. His sinfully plush lips, slightly parted as his breathing slowed down.</p><p>He was beautiful in his unique and slightly monstrous way.</p><p>Solo sighed. That complicated things. But he was not one to dwell to much on unavoidable situations. He closed his eyes, scooting closer to the warmth of the sleeping body beside his own. Whispering, voice still a little hoarse and scratchy.</p><p>"Good night Illya."</p>
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